Cast In Fury (48 page)

“Who wouldn’t?”

They both wore dress uniforms. The Quartermaster had handed them over with a very grim warning about their condition, and the condition he expected them to be returned in. Given that they were expensive, and given Kaylin’s history with uniforms, she would have worn rags if she’d been given any choice in the matter. But the Quartermaster was in the mood to forgive and forget. Or at least forgive.

She saw Ybelline in the small crowd, but it
was
a small crowd, and she didn’t feel up to wading through it just to stand and bask in the glow of the Tha’alani Castelord’s presence. And in any case, it wasn’t Ybelline she was looking for.

It was Marrin.

Marrin had been invited to attend. She hadn’t wanted to leave the Foundling Halls, and Dock and Cassie had had to work on her for days before she replied with an acceptance. The rest of the children were put out, of course, but Dock and Cassie had promised that they would all get to see the play at the
same time
as the Emperor, and this had mollified them.

Kaylin wondered if Marrin had changed her mind; she couldn’t see her anywhere—and given that she was Leontine, it shouldn’t have been that easy to miss her.

But twenty minutes before they were to take their seats, Kayala appeared in the hall. She was carrying a familiar bundle. “Kitling,” she said, when she was close enough that she didn’t have to shout. “Lord Sanabalis found Marrin and asked our permission to bring her to the Pridlea. She’s with Sarabe, now. Do you have time?”

Kaylin nodded. She turned to Severn and hugged him—carefully—before she held out her arms. The broken arm was encased in splints, but it was mobile now.

Kayala smiled and handed Roshan to her. His eyes were still blue, but they seemed enormous to Kaylin, surrounded as they were by the sheen of healthy fur. He had sharp little teeth, unlike human babies, and he mewled like a kitten when he was hungry. Which was, as Kayala had warned her, all the time.

The Pridlea had kept him safe for two weeks now. And Kaylin had spent most evenings in the Imperial Palace, watching him, walking with him or feeding him.

She followed Kayala down the brilliantly lit Hall, past tables of food and drinks. Her stomach didn’t fail to try to embarrass her, but the sound of conversation was loud enough to spare her, this time.

But Kayala stopped before they reached the wing that still housed the Pridlea. “Have you spoken with Marrin?”

“Not yet,” Kaylin replied.

“Kaylin!”

“I didn’t want her to say no,” Kaylin replied.

“Kitling, that’s almost dishonest.”

“No, not dishonest. Just cowardly. Dishonest would be me telling Sanabalis that everything had already been arranged.” She had the grace to flush.

“Lying to a Dragon Lord? The word
dishonest
is eclipsed by the word
foolhardy.
”

“Or brave. I always like that one.”

Kayala swatted the back of Kaylin’s head affectionately. It still hurt, but it was a good kind of pain. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and when they reached the door, Kayala placed her palm in its center with a grimace. “I never understood the fuss you made about these wards until now,” the Matriarch said with a frown. “I swear, it makes every hair on my body stand on end.”

Kaylin laughed as the door swung open. Sounds of Leontine conversation immediately flooded the hall, and Kaylin stood on the threshold for a long moment, savoring them. And then she entered, carrying Roshan with her.

Marrin was surrounded—literally—by Sarabe’s girls. They were old enough to know better, but Marrin didn’t correct them; it wasn’t her job, and she seemed to enjoy indulging them. But she looked up as Kaylin entered.

“Kaylin,” she said, rising. This took some time, but the girls did manage to untangle themselves enough to let her take a step or two without tripping her.

“Marrin—I was looking for you in the guest hall.”

“Yes, well. This is a little more comfortable for an old Leontine, and I’m less likely to terrify the youngsters.”

“The—oh. You mean the Tha’alani?”

“They seemed slightly intimidated by me.”

“The Lord of Swords would be slightly intimidated by you,” Kaylin said with a smile. The smile faltered slightly.

But Marrin’s eyes were gold, and bright. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

One of Sarabe’s daughter’s giggled. Kaylin thought it was Leeandra, but couldn’t be certain; they sounded very, very similar, even if you knew them. At least, Kaylin thought wryly, if you’d been born with human ears. She glared in the general direction of the giggle, which caused another round, and this time, there was no point in trying to pick out who’d giggled, because they were all doing it.

“I don’t know how much you were told,” Kaylin said hesitantly. “But—this baby—”

“Is Marai’s child. Sarabe’s sister.”

Kaylin nodded gravely.

“Yes. I was told that.” She didn’t volunteer by whom.

“The Emperor has—has asked—the Elders to spare the child’s life,” Kaylin said, stumbling slightly on the words.

Marrin nodded gravely. “He is your son, by Pride Law.”

“Yes, but I don’t have a Pridlea,” Kaylin replied. “I don’t live by Pride Law. I used it, yes—but I’ve studied the law. I know how to use it when I have to.”

“And you had to, here.”

“Yes. I didn’t want him to die.”

Marrin was still waiting, and she was waiting in utter silence.

“I wanted—I want—him to be raised in a Pridlea,” she said quietly, looking for a moment at the baby’s wide, curious eyes. “But I don’t think he can be raised in the Quarter. He’ll suffer too much, I think. People are stupid when they’re afraid.”

“Especially when there
are
grounds for their fear.”

Kaylin hesitated, and then nodded. “But I don’t want him to grow up like Orogrim. He had to die. And now that he’s dead, it’s safe to think about what he
might
have been like, if he hadn’t spent his whole life knowing that the truth would be both feared and loathed. It’s so easy to get twisted out of shape, when you’re growing. And we don’t
know
what he’ll be.”

Marrin nodded. She was absolutely still, now. Even the children—well, the almost-children—noticed.

And then, after a long, awkward silence, Marrin sighed. “I will take him,” she said gently. “If that’s what you are trying—very badly—to ask me.” She held out her arms.

Kaylin looked at her. Yes, her eyes were golden, but they were filmed, Kaylin thought. Tears, something else, made the eyes glow in the soft light. “I can’t think of anyone else I would rather have raise him.”

She placed Roshan into Marrin’s open arms.

Marrin kissed his forehead, and hugged him.

“It’s not because of what you lost,” Kaylin said quietly. “It’s because of what you
built.
What you made for other children that no one wanted. What you’re
still
building day in and day out.

“And I know it’s a lot to ask, I know—”

“Oh, hush,” Marrin said softly, and there was something in her eyes, something in the baby’s, the blend of blue and gold so natural and so profound in its simplicity, that made Kaylin want to weep.

She hushed up instead.